Unbroken
by Femme Bono
Summary: All of the world's wayward children start tracing their roots back. Someone from Reddington's past returns and Liz comes back from the dead. Thanks to season 4, it is now unapologetically AU and we're not looking back. I fart in their general direction. Lizzington, through a 3rd person POV. NSFW. No, I do not own The Blacklist, nor do I make any money from this. Sad to say.
1. Chapter 1

**Unbroken**

" _It's the children the world almost breaks who grow up to save it."_ –Frank Warren (as quoted by Reddington)

Staff Sergeant Cassidy Scott strode down the stark hallway, the anxiety churning in her gut solidifying into a tight knot as she went. She stopped short of the guard's desk and nodded as the pudgy specialist reached back and hit a button on the wall. With a loud beep, the iron barred door clanged open and two more soldiers marched the detainee forward between them. None other than Raymond Reddington. He stood before her, manacled, as she schooled her features to appear calm.

"Well, well," she murmured, tilting her head to the side. "The great 'Red' Reddington at last. I've been searching for you for years now."

His eyes locked onto hers, blue to blue, and creased into a hint of a smile. "Have you now?"

Cassidy didn't trust herself to say more as she nipped the inside of her lip. Her eyes narrowed a bit and ghosted over his features. "Shorter now than when you first went AWOL," she nodded at the slightly receding hairline.

With that his mouth quirked into a slight smirk and he shook his head. Reddington laughed softly. "It used to be long enough—"

"Ohhh no!" she cut in, stepping up until she was toe to toe with him. Drawing herself up to her full height, she still only came to his nose, but she was close enough in his space to command his attention and make him blink bemusedly. "Absolutely NO stories. No tangents, no glib little anecdotes. Nothing. Your reputation precedes you, _sir_."

She added a sarcastic nip to the rank when she addressed him, just to let him know he was back in the military he had left behind so many years ago. With courts martial, any suspect was considered innocent until proven guilty and retained his rank, but Raymond Reddington was still widely regarded throughout the branches of service as one of the worst traitors in its history. The fact that he had been Navy and she was Army caused her sneer to have just a touch more disdain.

"Captain Reddington, you have been entrusted to me as your guard until you are remanded into custody to face a military tribunal for charges that include desertion, unauthorized communication of national defense information, willful communication of classified intelligence information to unauthorized persons—charges which fall under the 1917 Espionage Act—and treason. You would do well to _not_ cross me."

"Oh of _course_ sergeant," he smiled winningly at her. "You are quite formidable, I must say."

Sergeant Scott said nothing in response, simply turned to the specialist again and asked him for Reddington's effects. The specialist tapped a metal lock box on the desk and Scott grabbed the key to open it and catalogue the contents, verifying that everything he was captured with was still there.

"One revolver," she said reading off the form listing all his possessions. "Colt 1911. Ammunition, 45mm, 8 count. One magazine. Holster, leather, camel colored…"

"Where's the holster?" she queried.

"Mannnn…" the specialist shook his head. "That could have been left off the 1750. For that matter, the weapon could disappear—"

"I want every item he was captured with, not only listed in the DD1750, but present in this box, specialist," she clipped tersely. "Toss it in, or you can have your own court martial date."

She watched stony faced as the specialist sighed and opened the top desk drawer, tossing a hand tooled leather gun holster into the lock box. Scott tried not to think about how much the item was worth. Instead she finished reading over the contents, slapped the lid shut and locked the box.

She gestured to the guards before turning to lead the way back down the hall. "Move him out," she said, shaking her head. She could feel the headache starting at the base of her skull and knew it would be one long ride to the Pentagon.

"Sergeant Scott," one of the guards spoke up as they loaded Reddington into the back of a Humvee, "you sure you don't want a convoy or something for him, being a HVI and all? We could at least provide a lead vehicle."

"Nope. More vehicles would draw attention than just one, that's what the higher ups decided." She didn't point out that it was she who convinced them of this, citing the number of convoys that had been attacked in the greater DC area in recent years. They still remembered the kidnapping of General Ryker's daughter all too well.

* * *

Scott snatched up her helmet out of the floorboard, strapped it on, and climbed into the driver's seat, honking twice before pulling away, effectively cutting off any more questions.

They drove in silence for a few moments; Scott had tuned the radio to a local independent station and took a deep breath to relax her jaw when she realized she was clenching it. She had a multitude of questions to ask the man just over her shoulder and pondered when and where she could pull off and finally force him to answer for himself. She had to know. For years this man, this enigma, had been an obsession for her.

At last, curiosity got the better of Reddington himself. Quiet unsettled him and the woman before him was a complete unknown. He was fascinated.

"So Sergeant Scott…or is it Staff Sergeant Scott? I confess I'm not well-versed in Army rank structure these days—"

"The rank is staff sergeant, but I am still referred to as Sergeant when addressed," she replied, jaw unconsciously clenching again.

"Ah, well regardless," he continued undeterred by her tone. "Since we'll be riding for the better part of an hour together—possibly more so if we're taking what appears to be the longest possible way off of Fort Meade—"

"We are taking the range road in order to avoid unnecessary attention," she said grating her teeth.

"Naturally," he said breezily, "but if we're to take the scenic route to my impending doom, might I have the pleasure of knowing your first name?"

She sighed. Her training went against the very notion. No detainee ever was given personal information about the guards, handlers, interrogators or anyone else they came in contact with, for safety reasons. And here, in the middle of Nowhere, Maryland was the country's most dangerous criminal asking for pertinent information from her.

"Cassidy."

Upon telling him, she heard the slow exhale from the back and steeled herself against looking at him in the rearview mirror. _What is he thinking_ , she wondered.

"Cassidy," he breathed it almost reverently. "I had a younger sister who died as a child. Her name was Cassidy."

Scott said nothing. She chewed the inside of her cheek softly while she pondered just how to respond. They came up on a rise and the thoughts swirling in her head spun out as panic shot through her, a black SUV sat sideways just over the crest of the hill and she swerved sharply to avoid t-boning it. She started to carve a sharp U turn in the dirt road but even as she maneuvered the vehicle a second SUV pulled out of the tree line beside her, effectively hemming her in. Several people in tactical vests with what looked like service weapons stood on the opposite sides of the vehicles, shielded from her and her charge.

"Fuck!" she hissed, reaching for the M4 on the console beside her.

"I wouldn't bother," Reddington said leaning forward. "Not only are you outmanned and outgunned, but they are here on official business. I'm their asset, you see."

She could hear the smugness in his voice and fought the urge to snarl. Cassidy eased her hands into the air and clasped them over her helmet, silently fuming as the agents moved in to remove them from the Humvee.

"What agency, might I ask, negotiates with terrorists these days?" she said, promptly losing the battle against snarling. She could feel her lip curling.

Reddington laughed softly just behind her ear. It irked her severely. "Oh Cassidy darling, all of them."

* * *

*AWOL—Absent Without Leave  
*HVI—High Value Individual  
*M4-assault rifle, similar to an M16, but with a collapsible buttstock

A/N: I made Reddington a captain for a few reasons. Upon graduating the Academy, he would have been an O-1 (ensign) at 24 years-old. If he were truly being groomed for admiral (O-10) by the time he went off the grid, he would have had to have gone up at least 8 ranks to vice admiral (O-9), which is HIGHLY unlikely in the time frame we're given. I gave the benefit of the doubt that since he was top of his class and likely rose quickly in the ranks, he may have been captain and in the process of being groomed for rear admiral (make jokes if you got em). It's a little more believable, given the rank structure.


	2. Chapter 2

Cht 2

Cassidy fumed silently the entire way to DC. Once there, she noted the many turns and obvious back tracking they did to keep her suitably unaware of where they were headed. It only frustrated her more. The black cloth sack over her face screened her view of her exact whereabouts and the FBI agents who flanked her in the vehicle. Reddington, who was riding in the second vehicle, was accompanied by none other than Elizabeth Keen/Masha Rostova. It did not surprise her at all.

Ever since she went on the lam after killing the attorney general, most everyone had put two and two together and realized that Reddington must have been working with Elizabeth through the FBI. It smarted a little, but Cassidy understood the need. At the same time, Cassidy hoped he understood why she had done what she had.

It had taken her seven years of working in the field of counterintelligence, interviewing sources, debriefing people overseas, interrogating criminals, but she had finally landed the lead that got her Reddington. When she seeded the disinformation that a former associate of Reddington's was stationed on Ft Meade as contract support for their intelligence officers, she watched and waited until he showed up looking for his old colleague. The day she caught sight of Dembe Zuma casing the place, she knew she had him. Within days, he walked right into the intel office asking for Samuel Dutton, and the undercover CI officials arrested him. It was almost too easy.

Now, riding in a vehicle surrounded by suits, she realized that he played her instead of the other way around. As he had been for years, Raymond Reddington was several steps ahead.

* * *

She shuffled slowly, being led into the black site with her cover still intact. From the sound of things, she was in a large room with various machines (likely computers) and people shuffling around as though in an office setting. Sure enough, when they removed her blinder she saw that she was centered in the hub of a command center, large projection screens and smart boards, harried looking analysts furiously typing away at reports or researching leads. The cacophony of intelligence gathering played out in a hum of hushed voices, clacking keys, printers whirring. And there, straight ahead, he stood watching her as she took it all in.

"So," Reddington beamed, "Sergeant Scott. Or shall I call you Cassidy now?"

"Call me whatever you want," she replied grimly. "This is apparently your show."

He laughed airily, "I am merely one of the main players on a very large board, Cassidy my dear."

His mouth worked as he rolled his tongue in his mouth and looked her up and down. She took two steps forward and stopped, hesitating at the people in her periphery who stood by watching the exchange. She drew herself up, calling on all the bravado she had.

"So what is my part in this then?" she queried shrugging. "Why am I here?"

"Oh sweetheart," Red breathed, shaking his head softly. "You can fill in a lot of gaps. Fit together a lot of puzzles. You hold pieces we need."

"You could fill in a lot of gaps too," she said, sparing a glance at Elizabeth. "Why don't you anyway?"

"Much more fun this way," Red laughed.

Cassidy bit back a grin at his shamelessness. He had wanted her here, she realized. He had known she was looking for him and orchestrated this whole maneuver. She leaned a bit, tilting her head to the side and then shaking it. "Oh Mr Reddington, I think you've shown your hand a bit there. You want me here to help answer questions?"

"As it happens, the task force here has many, many questions that I'm sure you in your rarified profession can answer. It seems so ineffectual to guard information so closely to the vest, doesn't it? You work for the government, we work for the government—some of us more so than others—but I digress…I think it's high time we should compare notes. Don't you agree, Harold?"

At this, Director Harold Cooper stepped forward and shook her hand. "That we do, sergeant. In fact, we have cleared it with your superiors to have you brought on as part of the team to act as a sort of emissary and intermediary from the military intel field to ours. It's high time we started sharing intel in areas we have mutual interests in. That is, if you want to continue here. If not, we can escort you out the same way you came in and you'll never be the wiser about any of the goings on here."

He hesitated a moment smiling slightly, as if he already knew her answer.

"Agent Navabi is in a similar situation. She is Mossad," Cooper said, gesturing toward a tall West Asian woman. "And yet, we cross check information with each other on cases we're working on that coincide."

She looked at the sea of faces and saw a few she could not identify. She locked eyes with Elizabeth, who was watching her bemusedly as if Cassidy herself was a puzzle. Cassidy offered her a smile of understanding and knew suddenly that the woman had no idea who and what she really was. _Why in the world wouldn't the man come up off this knowledge for her_ , Cassidy wondered. That pang of sympathy, along with the fact that she would not rather be anywhere other than with the frustrating man smiling amusedly at her, had her giving a quick nod.

"Well then," Cooper gestured broadly. "Welcome to the team." He introduced her to Elizabeth, Navabi, Agent Mojtabai, a tall drink of water with a tight little ass—she would have to revisit him later—and Agent Ressler, who seemed downright stuffy and a little too by-the-book. Finally she faced Reddington again and took a deep breath.

"Well guys, I suppose in the interest of fairness, I should explain my name."

"Yes, Scott is actually my maiden name—" Elizabeth began.

Cassidy cut her off with a curt nod. "I know, I helped name you."

"Sorry?" Elizabeth shook her head, nonplussed.

"Scott was my grandmother's maiden name. On my dad's side. Elizabeth was my best friend growing up in Virginia, before we moved to Maryland."

"How would—how could you possibly have helped name me?" Elizabeth laughed nervously.

"My father named you," Cassidy shrugged. "I helped."

"Your father?"

"I changed my name as well, seven years ago. Right before I joined the Army. I chose Cassidy, because it's what my father wanted to call me. And I chose Scott, because it was the family name that we used for you. I knew that if I ever saw you again, it may jog your memory."

"What was your name before?" Elizabeth asked, though it appeared the answer was dawning on her already.

Cassidy gestured to Reddington, who simply smiled broadly. "Jennifer…Reddington."


	3. Chapter 3

Cht 3

A few hours later, Cassidy stood facing a smart board with her arms crossed. Before her was a mind map of Alexander Kirk (previously Constantin Rostov) and his network. Most of the connections were the same she was aware of, but there were a couple she didn't know and some that she knew of who were missing. Tom Keen was a noticeable gap there, but she was loathe to broach the subject without talking to her father first. _How would Elizabeth take this_ , she wondered. The guy she was married to was one of Kirk's chief henchmen, trained by the Major.

She turned back and saw Reddington talking animatedly with Director Cooper. Her heart swelled and tears welled up; 20 years of waiting and he finally stood before her. It was all she could do to not run to him and tuck her head in his chest sobbing like the little girl she was when she last saw him. Cassidy swallowed the lump in her throat and aimed instead for Elizabeth. The girl needed to know what was up, and however her father was trying to protect Liz, it was high time she had the blinders taken off. Now seemed as good a time as ever since he was distracted.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Cassidy asked, approaching the young woman. "I need to catch you up on Kirk before a lot of what I have to say becomes general knowledge here. I think you should know first, being that a lot of it concerns you."

"S-sure," Elizabeth said worriedly. Cassidy could understand her hesitance.

They settled themselves in Elizabeth's and Ressler's office. Ressler dipped out and gave the girls some space, his brow furrowed in worry for his partner.

Cassidy took a deep breath before starting, and searched her mind for some way to show that she could commiserate.

"Look…" she began. "I've got to give you credit for having solid brass cajones in battling your way out of Kirk's safe house without hanging around for answers. Honestly, I think your instinct served you well there. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to make sure that we help get your daughter back. I know Dad will."

"He has a soft spot for kids," she smiled wryly.

Liz's eyes teared up, but she nodded so Cassidy continued.

"When I first started chasing after Dad, I wasn't entirely sure if a lot of the information and RUMINT about him was true. I was afraid of exactly what I would find out, scared to death that the man I knew and loved was the monster they painted him to be. At the same time though, I had to know the truth. It ate at me, tore at me, until I took the reins in my hands and went after it. You understand, I think, what it's like to have so many questions and so few answers?"

The girl nodded again.

"Here's the thing: Alexander Kirk is most definitely your father, and before he went to ground our intelligence points to some very drastic experiments he was involved in with the KGB that I think adversely affected you and many other children. I'm not sure that my father knows the full extent of what was going on, but he was aware enough that when Katarina Rostova defected, he helped her escape. With you."

"I understand that she killed herself after the fire, and I know that he was shot during it. I'm not sure exactly who did it, but I suspect it was my dad—"

Liz shook her head, now silently weeping. "I-I did it."

Cassidy laughed mirthlessly, "well, that kind of explains the shitty shot. No offense." Liz's face crumpled in disdainful exasperation, so Cassidy continued on without further explaining the ramifications of Liz's actions. That would have to wait.

"From the reports that went around during that time—whatever I was able to get my hands on with my clearance, that I could prove 'need to know' for—I understand that he wanted to take you away from her to continue the experiments, and she was trying to protect you from it. They likely fought over that, I'm sure, and it led to an attempt on your mother's life by Kirk and his henchmen. It is unclear which of them started the fire, but it was ruled arson and the intel at the time points to a US operative who came in and rescued both you and your mother. I believe that was Dad, as other reports that he wrote at the time place him in that area of Moscow and show that he was working in concert with your mother since she intended to defect to the US."

"What transpired after, as I understand it, is that you were believed to have been killed in the fire. She was not seen nor heard from again until she was found off Cape May, deceased. I have no idea why she took her own life."

Cassidy stopped, took a deep breath and tried to gauge whether Liz had fully absorbed what she was saying. The younger woman sat, her hand rubbing surreptitiously over her wrist.

"As to the experiments themselves," Cassidy continued, placing a hand over Elizabeth's to stop the movement, "what I was able to gather was that they were predominantly done in an effort to 'breed' children, for lack of a better term, who carried the warrior gene. It was a way for the government to subsidize making their own elite operatives. Your mother and father were carriers and you, as a result, are their genetic progeny who would have been trained from childhood to carry out orders, including assassinations and all types of espionage. In the early days of the experiments, they branded the children as a means of marking them for their intended purpose."

Elizabeth glanced at her wrist. "This? I always thought it was from the fire."

Cassidy shook her head. "That's a marking similar to the ones a lot of human traffickers use. There's a different symbol for a lot of different underground groups that use children for nefarious purposes."

"What about my memories?"

"What about them?"

"I don't remember any of this!" Liz burst out. "I don't remember anything. For the longest time I couldn't remember most of the fire even, but it wasn't until Luther Braxton tortured me that I could remember anything at all—even shooting my father, but—"

"Are you saying you don't remember any of your training, the experiments, anything? All the way up until the fire?"

"No."

"What about after the fire?"

"Just…just memories from being with my father."

"You mean, Sam Milhoan, the guy who raised you?"

"Yes," Liz replied tearfully.

"Okay, so in other words your memories were wiped all the way up to you being with Sam, so you don't remember any of your experiences in the experiments, nor how you got in country and got away from Kirk and his men… I think I know who likely did that, and it was probably for your protection."

Liz's mouth pursed into a thin line and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms as though trying to warm herself.

"Reddington."

* * *

*RUMINT- "rumored intelligence"; military slang for gossip


	4. Chapter 4

Cht 4

Reddington watched warily as the two women stepped out of the office and crossed the floor. His hands folded in front of him, right over left, a typical pose. Cassidy smiled and he returned it slowly. _Wondering what I told her_ , she thought. Elizabeth had walked to Aram's table, where he sat talking to Samar and Ressler. She worked on rounding them all up for a conference which would take place momentarily, but for the time being, Cassie finally had Reddington all to herself.

"So," she said, butterflies kicking in finally. There were no other people around as a social buffer, and suddenly she had no idea what to say.

"So." Red tilted his chin and gave her a sideways grin. "You look so grown, sweetheart." His voice thickened with emotion and finally, finally Cassie reached out for the hug she had needed for more than two decades. She inhaled his scent, feeling suddenly 12 years-old again. Cigars and spice. His face had dipped to her hair and she could feel his cheek pressed to her head. "Too long," he said. "Entirely too long."

"I agree. It wasn't easy to track you, but I did it."

Reddington laughed, a deep throated chuckle. How she had missed that laugh! "That you did. I may have seeded a little information, too."

"I'm so sure you did. If there's one thing about Raymond Reddington, it's that he doesn't get found unless he wants to be. You know who told me that?"

"Admiral Franks?"

"Admiral Franks," she nodded. "He told me a story of you going AWOL once in training to meet up with some Marine lance corporal who promised to ah…"

"Ohhh God!" Reddington laughed. "Lance corporal Higgins. That girl had the hardest time trying to find a uniform top that could cover—"

"No no no no no! I already heard this story from Admiral Franks and I can't unsee the images already, Dad, thanks but no."

Cassie shook her head, laughing quietly to herself, and looked back out at the flurry of people and machines on the command center floor. Completely at ease, Reddington pulled her into his side and draped an arm over her shoulders, taking in the scene before them. She tilted her head into his shoulder, and took a breath, all the while knowing this would be the calm before the storm and that Reddington—both Reddingtons now, she told herself—stood in dead center of it. She cast a glance up and saw where his gaze fell. Right on Elizabeth Keen. It would be their job to keep her safe in that center with them. One step in either direction and she would never know what hit her.

* * *

Cassie made the most of the meeting, everything she had discussed with Liz was covered again and the team had been shocked to discover the depth of the child breeding programs that Kirk, the Cabal and a few other agencies had collaborated on, with trainers and recruiters such as the Major. They listened while Cassie explained her research and reconnaissance into the depths of that world and what it entailed for children the world over.

She gave them names of people who could flesh out the intel on Kirk, and even a few defunct organizations, such as Floriana Campo's. With her gone, it created a vacuum for leadership, with former members as well as other organizations vying for her territory and accounts. She fielded whatever information she had, knowing that her information would be forwarded down the pipe to whatever task force handled child trafficking. Hopefully, somewhere, some way, they could break a few more links in that chain and cause the whole system to fail.

It was a draining, wrenching couple of hours with a few tidbits of information that she kept very close to the vest. Periodically she would catch Reddington's eye. The first time, he merely shook his head, knowing what she wanted to say. For the time being, it would hold and she would respect his wishes. Eventually though, Elizabeth would have to know.

* * *

After one very trying, very long day but Cassie finally trudged into Reddington's latest crash pad, an Italianate villa built by an up and coming senator years prior, but currently owned by a black market arms dealer who had (somehow) recently been incarcerated. There would be a bevy of federal agents swarming the place in two days' time to document and catalogue every one of the man's belongings to be sold at auction, but in the meantime, Reddington was ensconced there in perfect anonymity. The man absolutely amazed her sometimes.

"Dad." Cassie sighed. It was time for one of the major discussions they had both put off. Cassie was loathe to do it now, but the sooner they discussed it, the sooner Lizzie could know.

Reddington sighed even deeper, his feet kicked up on a velvet ottoman with a Scotch in hand. "Cassie. I love that you took that name, by the way. I think it suits you better." He smiled wanly, knowing what was coming.

Cassie sat on the coffee table next to his ottoman and steepled her fingers, clicking her nail tips. Stalling. She knew she was stalling, and sighed again.

"Tom Keen." Reddington actually rolled his eyes, tilted his head and set his jaw.

"What of him?"

"We have to tell her. It ties directly to her child and if she knows, she will want to get her even that much more."

"Exactly!" he stated, downing his Scotch and dropping his feet to lean forward, closer to Cassidy. He met her gaze eye to eye. "This will devastate her now, especially since she had to leave so hastily. She's broken hearted already that she had to leave Agnes behind."

"If it's that you don't want to cause her any further pain, Dad, I can tell her."

Reddington shook his head.

"What is it with her?" Cassie said, getting frustrated. "I know you have such a strong desire to shelter her, but you really can't."

"This could break her, Cass. The same way it did her mother."


	5. Chapter 5

Cht 5

Cassidy conceded that her father was correct—getting baby Agnes rescued was priority one and their mission focus for the time being. At some point though, Liz would have to know the story on her husband and how it affected their child.

They met at the post office to discuss the parameters of their burgeoning rescue plan, and still Cassie had her reservations about allowing Tom Keen to be part of it. She cast a glance at her father from across Aram's stand-up desk, as the tech guided the task force through the security parameters in place at Kirk's safe house. Red's face was grim, resigned. At the sound of the elevator doors opening, she saw him glance up. She saw his face twitch and knew it was Tom. _Think of the devil_ , she mentally paraphrased, _and he appears_.

Tom's arrival signified the beginning of their meeting and the entire body moved toward the conference room. Tom and Liz kept to the back of the group, their heads together. Reddington's face was now inscrutable, and Cassie ran a hand down her father's arm. He turned his head and smiled as he took the steps up to the conference area, then clasped her hand briefly.

"I'm alright sweetheart," he reassured her. Cassie knew this was a lie. He was worried, and from the moment Tom Keen arrived in their enclave, Red's face became a mask of quiet nonchalance. She wondered momentarily just what his feelings were for this girl he had shadowed for years. It happened, she reasoned. Nurses fell in love with patients, and guards fell in love with their charges.

As the group circled the table and took seats, Harold called the meeting to order and asked Aram for what intel he had on the safe house. A couple of Reddington's scouts had reconned the place as well as they could, but what Aram pulled up, including satellite and drone surveillance, was damning. She was being housed in an orphanage—at least that was the front. Cassie recognized exactly what it was and said so.

"This is one of their training compounds," she said matter-of-factly. "The cover is usually a children's home or orphanage, but this is where they train the kids for their lives as operatives. Since it's a cover of course, any potential parents coming through the doors are almost always unable to adopt for one reason or another, no matter how good their profiles may be. Anyway, once the kids' training is nearly done, they are branched off to satellite locations for mission specific training. Those places usually cover as foster homes."

Every face in the room turned to look at her. She held Tom's gaze the longest, letting him know she knew. "That's how they explain all those different children in one place." He dropped his chin and continued to look up at her like a doleful basset hound. _That's right_ , she thought _, tuck your tail_.

A glance at Liz told her that the seeds of doubt had once again sprouted root. Elizabeth was looking at her husband with speculative interest. "The purpose in Cyprus Adoption Agency wasn't like this one…" she began.

"No," said Cassie cutting in, "that was a different scheme. Those guys were remarkably unambitious compared to your father's network."

Her brow furrowed at the mention of Kirk.

"All that being said," Aram interjected, clearing his voice, "we can't really tell if there are any underground layers like the facility we uncovered that housed Dr Covington…"

"I can get some connections in the DIA on that," Cassie said. "If nothing else, there should be geospatial indicators. Dad, maybe you can pull whatever strings you have to see if any work was contracted at any point by some less than legitimate contractors?"

Reddington laughed, "of course I already have someone on it."

Cooper looked perturbed at this, "dare I ask?"

"Best if you don't," Reddington quipped. Cassidy stifled a snort.

At this, Cooper decided to switch gears. "Agent Navabi, what were you able to find?"

"There are two doors in the side wings that both have keypads. Everything else checks out on the blueprints, except these doors… I think Sergeant Scott is correct. Those doors do not show up on the original plans, plus they have to lead to somewhere. I think there is an underground chamber of sorts and that is likely where the baby is being held. I did not see her anywhere in the facility and I got a good look at most of the locations there."

"So," clipped Cooper, "we're at an impasse until we can find out what's behind there. We know from the chatter that she's there and the footage forwarded to us from Halcyon shows her clearly being shuttled into the building. She's there, we just have to find out where and get the extraction team in."

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassie saw Liz take a shuddering breath. This couldn't be easy; her heart went out to the girl, but she only needed to be strong just a bit longer. In fact, in light of recent events, Cassie hated to tell Liz, but Kirk was likely to be picked up by the DIA any day as well. Hopefully before all of this went down. If his operations were disrupted it would make it that much easier to get in and grab the child before anything could happen to her. They certainly wouldn't move her without orders.

* * *

In a matter of days, they had the answers they needed. They stood at the ready—Red's team forming the first wave of attack. They set themselves in the surrounding buildings at locations that Kirk's men had taken up for sentry positions. A car came screeching up in front of the faux orphanage and the sentries poised themselves to take a sniper shot at whomever was about to breach the building. Instead they dropped silently as Baz and Dembe both took them out from behind.

Ressler and four men exited the vehicle and moved in tactically, stacking outside the door and moving inside in unison, one behind the other to begin clearing the first floor. Navabi and three others breached in from the rooftop access and swept downwards, clearing rooms as they went. Inside already, Elizabeth swiped the access card on the side of the keypad and entered the sequence of numbers. The door sprang open as the first tactical team moved in swiftly behind her. She ran to the opposite side of the building and let herself and Samar's team into the second doorway. From two different sides, the teams moved through, clearing out the workers and taking out guards along the way. Nameless faceless children screamed and cried, bolted for doorways, hid under beds. Finally. Finally, they moved into a large nursery and began scouring the bassinets for Baby Agnes. Ressler was the one who found the empty one, and kicked it aside cursing.

"She's not here," he said grimly. Liz's heart dropped. Cassie and the other team members lowered their weapons slowly from the unarmed workers they had corralled into the room.

"Where is she?" Cassie asked menacingly, nudging the closest one with her boot.

"W-who?" she shuddered.

"The Keen baby," Ressler clipped tersely. "As if you didn't know."

"Sonia took her upstairs not fifteen minutes ago. She was just taking her up for some outdoor time, I swear. It's scheduled in for each of the babies. She's no different. I don't know anything else."

"Sonia!" Liz exclaimed. "Aram, what can you pull up on an employee named Sonia?" she queried into her com.

"One second," his voice replied into their ears, "I'm pulling it up now."

"Ohhh…" he said a moment later. "Oh this is not good."

"What?! What is it? Aram?"

"Her information didn't pop when I first ran all the employees, but seeing her picture now…whoa."

"Oh my god, Aram, what?" Ressler said, losing his patience.

"It's Vanessa Cruz."

* * *

Liz had passed what may have been the most trying day of her life, next to the day her daughter was born, but she swore up and down that it was not over yet. Once she got her hands on Reddington, she was going to beat him for helping that woman escape so many months ago. Liz tried to reach him through Dembe repeatedly to no avail. Finally, she had to concede that it would not happen as soon as she wanted. Bone weary, Elizabeth headed home. She stumbled into her apartment and found Dembe seated on her couch. Her spine stiffened and her expression must have brooked no response, for Dembe merely pointed to the back bedroom area.

She skidded across the short excuse for a hallway and stopped short when she saw the familiar figure standing in the shadows over an antique cherry wood Queen Anne crib with delicate pink linens. Her breath caught in her throat over the tiny bundle scrunched up in his arms and she sobbed once before crossing to him and reaching for her child.

Reddington handed the baby over wordlessly as Liz's eyes overflowed with tears of relief. "He was about to have her moved, Lizzie. I didn't want to take the chance that it happened before you could move in. I had Veronica there for weeks. It was she who provided information on the lower chamber, and as soon as I had word that Agnes would be moved, I called and gave the order."

Still sobbing, Liz was dimly aware of what he was saying, and of the irrationality of checking all the little fingers and toes. But she was fine. Agnes was fine, and what Red was saying slowly seeped into her consciousness and a thread of unease rankled at her core.

"How did he know?" she asked at last, when she was finally able to pinpoint the problem.

Reddington played with Agnes's fingers idly as the baby cooed.

"How indeed," he said ominously.


	6. Chapter 6

Cht 6

Cassie showed up at Liz's barely an hour later, with a paper bag curled in one arm. Liz answered the door and returned to the couch where she had been sitting, watching her daughter sleep in her carrier.

"I can't stop watching her," Liz said, rubbing her lower lip. "I know that probably sounds crazy, but I'm so afraid to let her out of my sight."

"That's not crazy at all. With everything going on and everything you two have been through since she got here…even _how_ she got here." Cassie laughed mirthlessly. "I mean, all new mothers are supposed to be neurotic, so you definitely get a free pass."

Liz smiled ruefully.

"So where's Tom," Cassie asked casually.

"He's giving us some space, staying on his boat. Before all this happened I had wanted my own place, my own thing. Now…I don't know."

She chewed her lip, hesitating.

"Yeah, about that," Cassie said, reaching into the bag and pulling out a pack of Coronas. "I told Dad I was going out for a beer, not to expect me. I'm sure he had me tailed regardless, but I thought you might need this. Are you nursing?"

Liz's smile was more genuine this time and she giggled. "No. I think she's been bottle fed too long; she has issues latching on, and I just gave up. Are you trying to get me drunk, Sergeant Scott?"

"Please. I'm off duty," Cassie grinned. "And out of uniform. Besides, I think it's time you knew everything, and a good portion of it has to do with Tom Keen. You're going to need these."

Liz's smiled faltered. "And where did you get this information? From Reddington?"

"No," Cassie replied. "From my own intel research into these child training facilities," Cassie took a breath, "and the organizations that support them."

"Look, I know that Tom was employed by the Major, that he worked with Gina Zanetakos and he did some pretty messed up stuff-"

Cassie held up a hand. "He's still doing some messed up stuff, and I really need you to hear me out on this."

Liz sighed deeply, rolled her eyes and got up to fish for a bottle opener. When she sat down finally and both beers were uncapped, Cassie took a small sip before launching into her story.

"My dad worries about telling you too much too soon. He's afraid it will be overwhelming or that you'll panic the way your mother did. He contends that what with all the efforts to reign her in, the stresses of being a new mother and constantly being on the run, she cracked under pressure. Her idea was that since they believed you to be dead, that you would be safest being secreted away somewhere under his care, and that her death would convince everyone to stop looking. She knew her suicide would sell it, that she died grieving for her lost child and the break-up of her marriage. She was right, except for one thing."

"Dad kept tabs on you enough that double agents picked up on the fact that he had a charge he guarded from afar, and thus entered Tom Keen." Liz's brow furrowed, but she remained silent and instead focused on opening her second bottle. "He was tasked through the Major to get close to you and try to assess whether or not you were the long lost daughter of the great Rostovs, who were KGB agents and a pair of initial test parents for Russia's child operative training project."

"Dad put out a call for someone to be your friend and keep you safe, and he offered his services. Unbeknownst to my father, Tom was double dipping. His orders came to him through the Major…first from Kirk, and since he had no problem with duplicity, from Berlin. They had two different purposes, but Tom pocketed the cash doing recon for both."

"Tom told me my father was alive," Liz said slowly, as she was slowly starting to question things that had never occurred to her before. "He suggested Cuba to Mr Kaplan…did he tip off my father?"

"You're getting a little ahead of me, but yeah," Cassie urged, nodding. "The Major was one of those trainers. Tom is a product of this nasty little system, and he is exactly the outcome that Dad was always trying to avoid for you. Tom Keen started out as Jacob Phelps. He was a thief, pick-pocketer, street kid, in and out of foster homes, expelled from school after school. But intelligent. Phelps was highly intelligent and _Keen_ —and he picked that nickname up. It was his street name. The Major spotted him and recruited him. He trained at one of Kirk's facilities when they discovered he had the gene."

Liz covered her mouth, eyes filling with tears as she glanced over at her daughter.

"I'm pretty sure the adoption he orchestrated was for a warrior child. That's what they call them. 'Warrior children.' Even though that fell through, the fact that you both have a daughter now is even more significant. You are now in the exact same position your mother was. Once he knew you were truly Masha Rostova and that you were the original warrior child, his assignment changed. It came direct from Kirk."

"That son of bitch," Liz said through gulping sobs.

"That's why Dad never wanted you two together. Once he knew Tom's backstory, once he knew you two were intimate, he wanted Tom away from you. He saw what Kirk had begun, and he moved in to help you avoid your mother's fate. I think he felt he owed it to her, since he couldn't save her the first time. He's been taking steps ever since to bring these organizations down—he's even branched out to fringe networks and people who at one time or another have helped their members."

"It is now all too important to keep Agnes safe from your father…and hers. Tom was taken in and boy, did he drink the kool-aid. He moved up through the organization. For him, it was like a street gang. It gave him support he never had and attention for the negligible gifts he has. It's a pretty twisted marriage of nature and nurture. The way his warrior tendencies played out, he was predisposed to being nothing but trouble. The fact that he was trained by the organization only made him worse. He's practically the exact opposite of my father. Dad has a huge problem in that he's a good man who excels at being bad. Tom Keen, on the other hand is a bad man who is terrible at being good. It's not a good combination. And honestly, if I had to bet who bled our intel to Kirk about moving in to take Agnes-"

"It was Tom," Liz ground out through clenched teeth and tears.

"Like I said," Cassie said evenly, "he drank the kool-aid. My suspicions are that Kirk earmarked your mother as his mate in this freaky breeding project that he helped concoct and Tom Keen envisions himself the same way—as the head of a family of super soldiers and spies. You could topple entire governments with such well-placed and loyal offspring."

"That is so, so-"

"Twisted?" Cassie supplied, cracking open another bottle.

Liz simply nodded aghast.

"That being the case," Cassie said slowly, "I'm suggesting that we move this party to Dad's place first thing in the morning."

"Why not go now?" Liz asked, a hand around her throat as if to keep the panic bubbling up from rising any further.

"Well for one, we're a little too buzzed," she answered, clinking her bottle with Liz's. "And for another, I'm sure Baz is still camped out next door—which is probably also why Tom is 'giving you space.' I'll tell you what, for someone with a warrior gene, he is kind of a coward."

Liz simply snorted and shook her head, placing her face in her hands and groaning. "I always had to kill the spiders."

Cassie snorted out a laugh and Liz erupted in laughter. They both clutched their sides and cackled, the air of tension dissipating instantly as they shushed each other while the baby fussed a bit in her sleep.

They drank through their last beer each, comparing notes on the terrible boyfriends and worst first dates they had had. Liz helped make up a bed for Cassie on the couch and tucked Agnes in her crib before she crawled into bed and fell into a surprisingly restful sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Cht 7

Cassie's assessment was that they looked like they were loaded for bear. Agnes was snugged down in a baby wrap on Liz's front, looking like a front loaded assault pack. Liz carried a diaper bag slung over one arm and a backpack full of her own necessities over the other. Cassie herself had an actual assault pack on her back and a small duffle of weapons and ammo, because one could never be too careful.

To Dembe's credit, when he opened the door to their unannounced visitors, he did not even blink at the gaggle of women and gear. He simply ushered them inside with a growing smile and took the bags from Liz. "I will put these in a room for you and Agnes, and let Raymond know you are here," he said, glancing to Cassie with a nod. Cassie smiled back, knowing that he was aware that everything was in the open now. As Dembe walked down the hall to the library, he breathed a sigh of relief that not only was Elizabeth fully cognizant of the dangers she was in, but that she finally ran straight to Raymond's door instead of away. This was good news.

Liz unwrapped Agnes from around her middle when the little girl started squirming. She laid the baby on the couch next to her and let her stretch and wiggle. When Agnes started gumming a fist and fussing, Liz started to rise and follow Dembe for the diaper bag. "She's about due for a bottle-" Liz began, then stopped short when Reddington walked into the room.

"We'll get her whatever she needs, Lizzie," he said gravely.

"I'll go grab one," Cassie said suddenly and scooted out of the room before Liz could say anything. The tension in the room was palpable, she noted as she traipsed down the hall and waylaid Dembe on the way back from dropping their bags. "Hey, how about the dollar tour? I need to grab the baby a bottle, but might as well see where we're staying, huh?"

Dembe nodded smiling, and without a word turned around and led the way. They both seemed to be on the same page. Liz and her father needed some time alone to discuss the situation, for the first time with no barriers. Cassie just hoped the baby didn't get too hungry in the next few minutes, because she wanted to buy them as much time as possible. That tension she noted, wasn't all unspoken resentment or over protection. There was something else, however tenuous.

* * *

"Reddington—" Liz began, brow furrowed. She stopped and corrected herself, shaking her head, "Raymond." She struggled for words, but none came. Her eyes filled to brimming with remorseful tears. The lump lobbed in her throat and she shook her head again. Red smiled in understanding, "I know Lizzie," he said, thin smile on his lips. She sobbed, crossing the mere few feet between them and clung on tightly to the back of his vest. Reddington crooned softly in her ear, stroking a hand over her hair and muttering words of encouragement about her strength and how well she was holding up.

Lizzie felt none of it. All her strength was sapped, and she felt weak as a kitten. Out of tears, she still held on, breathing in his scent and taking the comfort in his assurances. "I missed you," she said into his chest. "I need you to know that," she choked out. "I felt your absence every day I was gone, and I don't even think I realized what it meant to not have you in my life anymore. That actually caused me pain, and it didn't hit me until I was there in that stupid club with the disco lights and that stupid song… Once the drugs started kicking in and the reality of it set in, I didn't know what else to say."

He said nothing, simply rested his cheek on the top of her head and let her carry on, still sniffling.

"I'm so sorry Raymond," she said at last, tipping her head back and looking him in the eye. "You told me once that if I wanted you to go that I only had to say the word and you would go. At the time I told myself that we needed to know what you knew, that your assistance was helpful and that the criminals we helped bring down were worth keeping you here. But that wasn't it. I just couldn't bring myself to tell you to go. Even then I couldn't say it, and I should have known. I do love you, Raymond. And not just for…pulling me out of the proverbial fire, time and again or…" she gestured frustratingly with her hand, lost for words, "taking out criminals or…the _work_ that you do. I love your silly stories and your ostentiaciousness, the fact that you wear ties that are so rare they can be traced straight to you, or how eating some Polish pastry from half way around the world puts such an ecstatic look on your face that I almost feel jealous of food."

At this Raymond chuckled and she shushed him, still weeping and struggling for words.

"But what I absolutely never want you to do again is to think me as weak as my mother. 'A mother who died in weakness and shame'…that's what you told me once. Do you really see that in me? That I can't bear the brunt of knowing that my father and the man that I so stupidly chose as my husband are in some twisted game of breeding warrior children? Or that I need protecting from them and being kept in the dark about it—so much to the point that you let me think it's you, my savior, who was my captor. You put up with me blaming you for everything that you practically martyred yourself weathering every emotional storm I had when the whole world felt like it was caving in on me, suffocating me and making it impossible to escape. You really thought I would break?"

"No Lizzie," he replied, his own throat tightening with emotion. "Not you. You are oh so much stronger than your mother was."

"Then promise me you will never keep anything from me again. I need to hear that from you. No more secrets, no more sheltering. I will stand beside you Raymond, but I will never stand behind you or in your shadow again."

"No," was all he could reply, for he could no longer trust his own voice. "No more, I promise."

"I do not ever want you to feel like you have to step away from us," she sniffled, gesturing to Agnes still wiggling and cooing on the couch. "And I can promise in return that I will never separate myself from you again."

With that, she wrapped her arms solidly around his waist and buried her face in his chest. He draped his arms around her, kissed the top of her head, and simply held on.


	8. Chapter 8

Cht 8

Dinner that evening was a cacophony of laughter and stories over a glorious pot roast that Dembe and Red both collaborated on while the ladies sipped wine and listened to tales of the men's exploits. Dembe corroborated Red's story of being stranded on Ko Ri after a lionfish sting. Red told the girls how attentive the tribal women were to Dembe when they spotted him and how precarious it was for them to try to extract themselves from being lured into a dual Moken marriage ceremony. From her carrier set on the end of the table, Agnes answered this with smiles and coos, as though she was weighing in on the conversation.

Liz got her settled in the sitting room after dinner with a bottle, while Dembe sat at the baby grand playing. Cassidy leaned on the piano nursing her second glass of wine and watching her father, who was watching Liz feed Agnes. She made a mental note to make it an early night and suss out the fitness room in the morning. She was long overdue for a run, and she felt that getting a jump on sleep that night might give ample space for some further bonding for Red and Liz. She smiled at them and caught Dembe's eye, he nodded simply and paused long enough in his playing to hold up a finger to his lips. It confirmed to Cassie that she wasn't seeing things or reading too much into their interactions. Dembe saw it too. She winked at him and started humming.

* * *

It wasn't until Liz settled Agnes in her new nursery that she realized she'd been abandoned with no idea which room was hers. Everyone had left the sitting room and seemed to have turned in for the night. Liz aimed left down the hallway, assuming that surely her room had to be adjoining Agnes's to make night time feedings easier. She tried the first door on the right from the baby's and came to an abrupt halt just inside the door. There stood Reddington by the bed, his features basked in the full moonlight, his back to her. He had caught the movement and half turned, pulling his shirt back up over his shoulders. It was too late though. An apology lodged in her throat and stuck there. It took a moment for Liz to process what she had seen before the full import came crashing down. The lines and pocked marks snaking across his back told the story she had wondered about but never presumed to ask; Reddington was covered with burn scars and the impact of this sudden knowledge had Elizabeth choking out a sob.

The stuttering apology came at last in a whoosh of breath, "oh Raymond, I am s-s-o so sorry!"

He had crossed the room, skirting the bed in an instant to take her hands as she tried futilely to swipe at her tears. Dear God, was she _tired_ of crying. For the second time that day she clung to him while he muttered reassurances and sprinkled her head with chaste kisses. As she struggled for better words to say, her embarrassment and shock gave way to a mortified frustration.

"You—why didn't you tell me?" she gasped, looking up into his face at last. "You let me just rail at you and—" she stopped as sheer humiliation set in, "you let me sit there and call you a _monster_! I've been horrible!" She choked out that last as fresh tears finally brought her to her knees. As they buckled Raymond clamped his arms around her and steered her to the bedside to sit. He sank to his knees at her feet and brushed kisses across her fingers. "Lizzie that night was so horrible there's no way a child should have had to remember it. I blocked that for the sole purpose that you would never have the burden of remembering. Anything that would negate the effect, including telling you as an adult now what happened then, might have brought it all back and reopened those wounds I got firmly shut. I didn't even think I should see you, in case it triggered a memory, so I stayed away."

"You don't have to do that," she shook her head forcefully, "you don't have to absorb or 'eat my sins' either. If I shot him, Raymond, I'm glad I shot him. I know now that…he's more of a monster than anyone I've ever met. More than you could ever be. But don't ever let me just run off like that at the mouth, ever again!"

Her voice softened, "don't ever let me treat you like that again. You don't deserve it. Not after what you've done for me. God! After _everything_ you've done for me."

"Lizzie, you don't owe me anyth—" Liz cut off his reply by pressing her lips to his. She closed her eyes for bravery and marveled at the softness and curve of his mouth. She sighed as his lips parted and she sipped lightly at the taste of him on the tip of her tongue. At her slight moan, Raymond pulled away. When her lashes fluttered open, he was looking at her as if concerned. He started to shake his head and let go of her hands, but she clasped them and held them, shaking her head in response.

"Lizzie—" he began.

"Don't tell me we can't," she urged. "There's no reason why we can't."

"I'm no good for you, sweetheart," he whispered feelingly, his throat constricting over the words as his own eyes filled with emotion. "I can't do that to you."

"Can't do what to me? _Sully_ me somehow? Like _you're_ unclean? I come from filth and crime, polluted thinking, the unloving calculation of a government program. I've already been touched by darkness and immersed in it. Do you forget who I was married to? You think that _slime_ is somehow _better_ than you? There's no way. You know exactly who and what I am and you still care for me. I don't have the challenge of having to open up about all this to you. You already know. And you are infinitely better than the man who conned his way into my life and brought that darkness with it. He drug me right back into it, and what's worse, he brought that to my _daughter_. There is nothing more horrible than that."

She tugged on his hands, urging him to wrap himself around her again. Liz slid her hands up under his still loosened shirt, trailing her hand over the scars as if she could ease them away.

"You have shielded me, protected me, saved me, time and again. And more than anything, you brought me the one thing in this world that matters to me the most."

She kissed his jawline and then his lips again.

"You said once that you saw in me your way home," she said, raising her eyes to his. "I've been stumbling blind too, and you light my way. We can. We can do this. And there's no reason we shouldn't."

She urged him closer, between her open knees, and pulled him flush to her chest, peppering his neck with kisses.

"Let me sleep with you. Here," she breathed. "If Agnes fusses, I'll hear her. She'll only be down a few hours anyway."

Raymond said nothing, merely nodded and pressed another kiss to her lips before standing and returning to the other side of the bed. He slid his shirt off his shoulders again, as Liz slid her bra out of her shirt sleeve and took her jeans off. She caught Raymond's gaze and a potent look passed between them of the promise of things to come. In that briefest moment, he turned and sat, untying his wing tips and sliding them to the side of the end table before removing his socks and pants. Liz's gaze flicked to the slightly tented boxers and back up to his face, her Mona Lisa smile telling him everything. Soon.

Under the covers he pulled her into his arms, swept her hair back and ducked his head down for one last sweltering kiss before he began stroking her back, fingertips trailing over her spine and sending her drifting to sleep as he lay there, wide awake in wonder at this sudden turn of events.


	9. Chapter 9

Cht 9

Cassie slowed her pace that next morning when she came around the corner and saw Liz creeping out of Red's room as noiselessly as possible. A slow smirk spread over her lips as she watched Liz in her rumpled clothing ease the door closed. Cassie let out a low whistle and snickered menacingly as Liz jumped nearly out of her skin and spun around, flush faced to see Cassie dressed and ready for a morning workout.

"I wasn't—I mean, we didn't—" she stammered.

"Well that's a shame," Cassie smirked, "it would only be about time, seeing how you two keep dancing around it so much."

Liz stood there, mouth opening and closing, reminding Cassie of a gaping sea bass, and only made Cassie snicker harder than ever. She kept walking, a little more bounce in her step, while she waited for the other girl to figure out what to say.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Liz hissed, glancing at Reddington's door before shuffling to catch up to Cassie. "Wouldn't that bother you? I mean…we're almost the same—"

"No, and what difference does it make?" Cassie said, wrinkling her brows at Liz while she nudged the door open to the fitness room. "In this life, I learned a long time ago to take happiness where you find it. If your happiness lies with you two being together, so be it! And I'll tell you something else for nothing, he never looked at Mom the way he does you, so odds are you won't wind up fighting like they did. Because to be completely honest, those guys showing up and our family spontaneously combusting…really was kind of a mixed bag. Equal parts blessing and curse."

Cassie hopped up on the treadmill and started it up to a brisk warm up walk. Liz leaned on the railing beside her, chewing her lip.

"Cassie," Liz began, "what actually happened that night? I mean…if you don't mind saying…"

Cassidy punched the stop button on the conveyor and turned slowly to look at Liz.

"What do you mean 'what happened'? You mean Dad didn't tell anybody?"

Liz actually rolled her eyes. "This is Raymond Reddington we're talking about, the concierge of incommunicado. Honestly, I'm not even sure he knows."

Cassie sighed and dropped to the edge of the treadmill and sat, her forearms resting on her knees. "He knows. I saw him at the hospital after everything went down. He came in the middle of the night. Mom was out, the pain meds really had her doped up. I was asleep in the chair, and when I heard someone sneak in, I was afraid at first that it was the same assholes who attacked us, so I pretended to still be asleep. Until I heard him drop the bed railing and sit beside her. He stared at her for a long time, looked like he was trying not to cry. Held her hand, kissed it. And he said…"

Her voice faltered and she took a moment to choke back the sob that threatened to break free. "He told her he was going to make it all right. I'd never in my life seen my father near tears. I didn't know what to do, so I just stayed there pretending. I didn't want him to know I'd seen him like that. He came over to me, kissed my forehead and said he loved me. And then he walked out the door."

Her voice thickened again with emotion. "I think he left to keep us safe. If they thought he abandoned us, they couldn't use us as leverage anymore. Does that not sound just like my dad? He ditched us for our own good."

She looked at Liz, eyes shining with unshed tears, and choked out a mirthless laugh.

"When my mother finally woke up, Dad was considered AWOL and the press was talking about a manhunt. A few years later they released a statement saying that he sold some documents he had stolen. It was all bullshit, I knew that. But still in the back of my mind, I wondered what it was he had to make right. The attack? Or something else? It took years of me trying to pick up his trail, starting at where he left off. I found reports had been scrubbed, some were missing entirely, but I started to piece it together backed up against what I could pick out of the intel. I made some inferences, filled in my own gaps. And by the time he released the Fulcrum, I had come to some of the same conclusions he had. Alan Fitch's name was on a lot of the documents, and with the press leaks recently, I was able to connect him to the Cabal and my best guess is that he is the bastard who sent those guys to our house."

She stared into space, seeing the scene again.

"They beat my mother nearly to death. I didn't know what to do. I was…12. What does a _kid_ do?" she shook her head at Liz who was covering her mouth with her fingers, eyes wide. Liz shook her own head in silent sympathy. "They kept asking where he was, but we didn't know. He wasn't supposed to be home for another day or so. I snuck into the kitchen the back way and tried the phone. They'd cut the lines. I at least had the presence of mind to run to the neighbors'. I went out the back door and cut out for the Wiley's place. Old man Wiley was a retired Marine who worked at Walter Reed. I knew he would come. By the time he got over there, the guys had gone, but Mr Wiley said he thought he saw one of them run out the back."

"After they found Dad's car, the authorities decided he may have been involved. They never did find anything conclusive though. The car had stalled and they figured he ran out of gas. There were presents inside. I never believed he had anything to do with it, but my guess is he found Mom and before he could do anything, he heard the sirens and bolted. Military police had already received anonymous tips that he was an insider threat. I have a feeling I know who was responsible for all that…"

"The Cabal," Liz whispered.

"Most likely. I don't know who signed off on it, but frankly I just hope he wipes them all out."

* * *

Their talk got Cassie fired up enough for her run again and once she finished and showered off, she rounded up Liz for a cooking lesson. They were well into the different stages of cooking eggs, bacon frying away in the oven, and toast plated and buttered when Red and Dembe walked in. Both men were sufficiently aware of Liz's cooking skills, or lack thereof, that they could not conceal their amazement. Lizzie feigned nonchalance, but she shot a conspiratorial smile at Cassie as Dembe poured the fresh-pressed coffee. Reddington waited until the plates were cleared and conversation lulled before he raised the subject he had been dreading to mention. He had only to clear his throat to get everyone's attention.

"Patrick Wexler."

Liz and Cassie both raised eyebrows and Dembe merely finished his drink.

"He is the _second_ best underground surgeon out there, and the next name on the Blacklist."


	10. Chapter 10

Cht 10

Patrick Wexler's office was, by all appearances, just a regular doctor's office. No mad scientist den downstairs in a warehouse, simply a lobby and exam rooms in clinical neutrals with potted plants. No guns blazing this time either, the tactical unit moved swiftly and silently on Kirk's guards who had been set around the perimeter of the building. The first wave of obstacles eliminated, Liz and Ressler moved in to the receptionist, flashing their badges and asking her to step outside. Navabi and Cassie, waiting on the outer perimeter with the tactical team, listened in as Aram guided them through the building using the schematics he had obtained, and collected the receptionist for questioning.

With Kirk's guards eliminated, Liz and Ressler had only to move into the exam room with Kirk and Dr. Wexler. The leapfrogged their way down the hall, opening doors and clearing each room, doing a quick visual sweep to make sure no one was there. Liz had just stepped past the one she cleared when she felt the cold metal nudge of a gun barrel against the back of her head.

"Weapon," was the coarse whisper she heard from behind.

"Tom." It wasn't a question, but even as she voiced his name her throat constricted and her stomach dropped to her knees. Ressler had spun around to the sound of his voice and raised his weapon. It was a lousy shot and he knew it put Liz in danger. Tom simply smiled and shook his head, silently urging Ressler to lower his weapon.

"How'd you know we were coming," Ressler inquired, his negotiation training textbook. Keep him talking, spin it out, stay neutral, wait for back up.

"We didn't—I mean," he smirked, "we knew you would come eventually. The DIA was tracking us and closing in and we had to move quickly but this…we can't stop this. Your father, Liz, he needs a kidney."

Tom had braced the gun against Liz's temple and had a bruising grip on her arm, pulling it backward enough that she couldn't get enough torque to wrench away. "See, when you were such a little snot-nosed thing he was trying to get your mother back, trying to get your family back together while Reddington was trying to tear you apart. Red wanted to bring you here, to the US, and get you away from everything you could become. He thought you were dangerous. He didn't know how much potential you had, how amazing you are. You could be so much more. But things went sideways and when he and your mom started fighting, you picked up his own gun and shot him in cold blood. Took out one of his kidneys. His comrades had to get him out of there or he wouldn't have made it. Reddington took you and your mother and ran like a coward, straight back here."

"Kirk was just as much a monster as you are," Liz ground out. "Let him die."

"Oh no, see, you are the reason he's down one in the first place," Tom growled, "and Solomon matched your blood…you're giving him one of yours."

Tom shifted to the side a bit, just as Cassie tracked noiselessly down the hall. Her 9mm was aimed at the ground in front of her, but the second Tom shifted, training and muscle memory had her swinging the weapon up in a swift arc, levelling it at the point just behind his ear and the shot cracked, echoing loudly through the hall. The second the report sounded, the door at the end of the hall swung open sharply and Kirk stood framed within, gun already trained on Ressler's back. Without thinking, Liz levelled her own weapon at her father and for the second time in her life, she squeezed the trigger, double tapping him square in the chest as Ressler sidestepped into an exam room. She stood frozen momentarily, blood and gore in her hair from Tom as she surveyed the fallen form of her father. Ressler stepped over and checked. No pulse.

"He's gone," Ressler said solemnly as he nodded, "and thanks."

Liz bobbed her head and turned mutely, watching Cassie do the same for Tom. "He's gone too," Cassie said gravely, "call in the ME, but they're both cold."

"They're already on the way," Aram's voice said quietly through their earpieces. "Everyone alright?"

"We're all fine," Navabi said from behind Cassie. "Everyone's just fine."

No sooner were the words out of her mouth, then Liz sank silently to her knees, shaking. Cassie moved swiftly to catch her and helped her land softly. She held on, only looking up to Ressler who nodded to Navabi. "We'll give you guys a minute, but we've got this. Just take a minute."

"Will do," said Cassie, stroking Liz's hair with one arm braced around her while they both knelt on the floor. She'd expected tears, but realized that after everything else, there were likely no tears left.

Navabi started to leave with Ressler when he passed them and retreated back down the hall, but stopped at turned. "When the medics get here, we'll have her checked over for shock."

"Yeah," Cassie agreed, "grab her a jacket or blanket out of the cruiser, will you?"

"Sure thing."

* * *

It was hours later before the crime scene was cleared, pictures taken, evidence documented and tagged, blood mopped up. With the body bags zipped up, every fantasy she ever had with Tom was finally and fully put to rest. Cassie stayed behind flirting with Aram, making dinner plans of Thai food and wine. Life went on. Ressler conferred with Cooper over reporting to higher ups and Navabi had already split for home, sliding her leather jacket on and promising herself a pint of Haagen Dazs on the couch with her Netflix queue. Liz made it back to Reddington's alone, her head splitting and her heart aching.

She stumbled through the door, only to find Raymond more relaxed than she had ever seen him, flat out on the couch, vest rumpled, shirt unbuttoned at the neck, stocking feet crossed at the ankles with Agnes snugged up on his chest with her tiny fist in her mouth. Both fast asleep. If her head hadn't been pounding it would have been worth a snapshot on her phone, a picture perfect moment and a side of Raymond Reddington the world would never see.

Dembe popped his head out of the kitchen doorway and took one look at Liz's appearance. He gestured silently for her to follow and she drug her feet into the blinding light of the kitchen. At her narrowed, squinting eyes and pained, pale expression he surmised the problem and swapped the bright overhead light for the dimmer one under the range hood. "Have a seat," he said softly, "I will make some coffee."

She was loathed to drink coffee late in the day, but Dembe assured her that the caffeine would help with the headache. He handed her a couple of aspirin to boot, and urged a little bit of leftover roast on her as well to keep her stomach settled. She picked over it, drank the strong brew and washed down the aspirin before begging off to take a nap. All she wanted was a cold, dark room and the oblivion of sleep after such a lousy day. She didn't think about where she was headed, only stumbled in on autopilot and stripped off her shoes before crawling beneath the covers to hopefully slide into unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 11

Cht 11

Liz heard the first few fusses in her sleep and slowly surfaced from the deep slumber she had finally succumbed to earlier. When Agnes finally barked out the first real cry, Lizzie slid sighing out of bed and stumbled toward the door between their rooms. She cracked the door and started through, only to find Reddington leaning over the crib, burping cloth slung over his shoulder, already making shushing noises as he lifted the baby out. Liz leaned gently enough on the doorframe so it wouldn't creak under her weight. She watched as he cuddled her in the crook of his arm and picked up a half empty bottle from the side table.

"Look madam," he said with mock seriousness, "you're going to wake your mother with all that noise and we both know how she gets."

Liz's eyebrows winged up. Then he turned and smiled at her winningly and sat down in the rocker by the window.

"You can go back to bed, Lizzie, I've got the princess here, and we're going to have a good long talk about deep sea fishing in the Andaman, right out of Phuket, where the marlin practically jump in the boat. It's marvelously clear and the deepest sapphire blue you've ever seen."

He said this last bit to Agnes as she sucked the milk down in grunts and snorts, watching his face intently as though she was thoroughly entertained. He continued on about the depth of the water and the rickety charter boat he went out on as her eyelids began to droop and the sucking slowed to a stop. Red shifted her slightly, propping her on a shoulder and started patting gently. She let out a well-rounded burp that would make a trucker proud, then sighed deeply, smacking her lips. His pats turned to rubs and within minutes she was out again.

"Well done," Lizzie whispered, clearly impressed.

"Like riding a bike," he smiled back, rising to settle her into the crib again.

"I wish she was yours."

He froze halfway into straightening up again, then turned his head toward her. His throat worked for a moment as if the words were struggling to rise out of it.

"I wish she was too, honestly." He straightened up fully and shifted to face her. "I would like to be in her life, if I may."

"Of course you can," Lizzie said crossing to him. "Of course you can." She leaned up and kissed him firmly, rubbing her hands up and down his arms. "You very nearly could have been her father, you know."

Red cocked his head as if disbelieving.

Lizzie nodded, affirming. "That night, out on the ocean…I was very tempted."

He laughed, scoffing a bit, then nodded. "I was tempted too. I think that's what made me say so much, give up so much that night. The light casting off of the water, your hair in the breeze and the way your face turned up to mine…tempting, yes."

Liz reached for his hand and tugged softly.

"So come with me now. Let's do what we should have done then." She slid the cloth from his shoulder and draped it over the side of the crib, then turned and led him back to the doorway to his room.

* * *

She led him straight to the edge of the bed and turned, sliding her hands up his arms again and linking them around his neck, leaning in for a smoldering kiss. Raymond's fingers ghosted over her hips and flexed when she slid her tongue over his bottom lip. His lips parted, and he dipped his head closer to hers, flexed fingers pulling her against him before sliding to her bottom and squeezing. She gasped into his mouth and he took the opportunity to plunge deeper, claiming her for his.

Liz could feel the hardness of him already, pressing against her as he nibbled her lip and slid his hands up her back to fist a hand in her hair and assault her exposed neck with teeth and tongue. She moaned as Raymond nudged her backwards until her legs came in contact with the edge of the bed. Her urged her down to sitting and knelt between her parted knees.

"Red," she said breathlessly, as he nipped at the inside of her knee through her pants. He reached for her waistband and tugged the button loose, unzipping and sliding them off as she lifted her hips. He lifted one of her legs and placed it over his shoulder, nipping again at her thigh, higher this time. She yipped a bit at the tenderness there, and he followed up with a swipe of the tongue. His other hand slid up and rubbed lightly at the most tender point, that little nub still protected by a thin layer of cotton. Liz had laid back when he started his sensual torture, but arched when he came in contact with her apex. "Red," she moaned again. He placed his mouth there instead, laving at her through the material, moistening her core even as she writhed under him.

He slid his hands up the outside of her thighs this time, dragging her panties down slowly as he licked his lips at the sight of her gently curving hips, her legs splayed open for his enjoyment, and his gaze traveled up to the swell of her breasts under the gauzy fabric of her shirt. He cupped her bottom again, this time pulling her closer to him and lowered his mouth to her. His tongue slid over and inside her, claiming her again, lapping at her clit and making her buck against him. He smiled as he looked up to see her hands fondling her breasts, tweaking and rubbing her nipples. He had nearly been hard already, but the sight of her in complete abandon made him throb even harder. Red slid a hand up to place two fingers inside her, already gliding and slipping up her moist channel. His tongue reasserted itself against her clit, lapping over it as his fingers flexed and stroked from the inside. Liz bucked again hard, "GOD! Reddington, oh my—" she broke off as he quickened his pace and she started writhing in orgasm, mewling and whimpering incoherently. When he felt her start to go slack again, Raymond straightened up and watched her panting and gasping, her eyes wide. "Good God," she said breathlessly.

"So you said," he grinned as he crawled up and gripped her hips again to urge her fully onto the bed. He settled himself on top of her. "No need to start praying baby, I'm right here." He smiled as he kissed her, she felt the curve of his lips against hers and nearly laughed until she realized what the thing was poking her hip. As if he sensed her attention shift, he reached down to place her palm against him and stroked her hand over it, groaning softly. "Lizzie," he growled into her ear, "you are driving me insane."

She made quick work of his pants, his boxers, and reached back down to palm him again. His eyes nearly rolled back in his head and his hands flexed against the bed covers. He slid his hands up under her shirt and drug the bra down, exposing her breasts, then took her shirt in both hands and ripped. He shifted upward, one of his knees pushing her thigh higher as he went, spreading her legs wider. He groaned when she placed the tip of his shaft against her vulva. Red clamped his tongue between his teeth and tried not to let his eyes roll back in his head again when he pressed into her warmth. One of his hands clamped over a fistful of her hair and his mouth found a breast. He sucked hard and her body rocked against him, even as he slid fully into her. Liz's hands roamed under his shirt, sliding over his back and cupping his bottom as he rolled his hips against her, bumping her clit and building that sweet pressure again, right in her core.

He took his time, slow and strong, and her fingers clamped on his cheeks urging him on. She started chanting his name again, pleading, mewling and rocking against him. She was so tight, Raymond knew he wouldn't last much longer, so he sought her mouth once more, tongue and teeth clashing with hers as his movements became quicker and stronger. Liz felt the fullness of every thrust, stretching her walls and making them pulse. Red leaned back, clamping a hand over the back of both her thighs and slapping his hips against them harder and faster. He reached one hand between them finally and rubbed his thumb against the tiny bundle of nerves that finally tipped Liz over the edge again. He felt her clamp around him as she tilted her head back, licking her lips and watching him drive into her. "FUCK! Raymond! God yes! Yes!" Her whole body tensed, bucking uncontrollably. Watching Liz lose control finally sent Reddington over the edge, his strokes more frantic, sac tightening closer into him he felt the warm spurt of his semen pumping into her even as she went limp.

A bead of sweat rolled off the tip of his nose and landed on her belly. Chest heaving, he lowered her legs and then settled himself against her. He kissed the tip of her own nose and smiled down at her. Still panting, she looked at Red and laughed. "If you ever decide to give up crime, you definitely have something to fall back on."

Raymond through his head back with a deep chuckle. "I will keep that in mind, maybe for retirement."

Liz smiled and pulled his face down to kiss him. "I'm afraid I may have left some claw marks on your rear end."

"I'll consider them a badge of honor."

Her face grew serious for a moment. "Raymond… I don't know that I ever got to finish what I wanted to say to you when Agnes was born. But it may be better to say now anyway, without the cloud of everything else hanging over us."

He looked questioningly at her.

"I do love you," she said firmly.

"I love you too," he said evenly. "And this time at least I know it's not just the drugs."


	12. Chapter 12

Cht 12

Cassie wished she could clamp her hands over her ears and brush her teeth at the same time, but she suffered in silence as Liz came again. For such a huge, immaculate house, it sure had thin walls, she groaned to herself. She made quick work of the job and rushed out the bathroom door, nearly bowling over Dembe in the hall, who frantically dodged her and ducked into the sitting room. He apparently also was trying to put some space between himself and the sounds coming from down the hall.

"My god they go on long enough," Cassie muttered.

Dembe flashed his pearly whites and chuckled silently, "how about you and I start some breakfast, and you can tell me why you came back home so early last night?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Cassie scoffed. "Because Aram is way more of a gentleman than I am."

"That's good," Dembe said soberly, "it means he wants to romance you, and that is good. You need it."

"My idea of romance is a six pack and a guy I picked up at the bar," Cassie cracked.

Dembe stopped rummaging through baking pans and looked at her.

"Okay, not really," she rolled her eyes, "I'm just not used to that whole dance, you know?"

"Like I said," Dembe nodded, singling out the pan he wanted and placing it on the stove, "you need it. And if you are not used to it, it is high time."

"I guess so."

They made short work of an entire loaf of bread, a dozen eggs and a smidge of cream, cinnamon and a pinch of nutmeg to make a French toast casserole he swore was Reddington's favorite. Dembe said he tested it out on a hesitant Red, only to have him finish half of it on his own. By the time the two lovers made their way out of the bedchamber, Agnes was fussing for breakfast and Dembe was well into a story about Reddington's worst cooking disasters.

* * *

Reddington entered before Liz, bleary eyed but smiling. Liz came in carrying Agnes hanging over the crook of her arm like a wiggling sack of potatoes who was already sucking down a bottle. She kept Agnes in her lap and gave up feeding herself when she had to burp the baby. Reddington, saying nothing, simply scooped up a forkful of the casserole and popped it into her mouth.

"So what are we going to do with this day?" Cassie asked the room at large.

"Well," Raymond said slowly, "Lizzie and I are making a field trip with Agnes. For a few days."

"Okay…?"

"Lizzie has some leave built up right now, so we're going to drive out to one of my safehouses and let her enjoy some mother/daughter bonding."

He exchanged a knowing look with Dembe, but Cassie was confused.

"Why can't they do that here?"

Reddington's closed off expression made her wonder what he was up to, and his answer did not help, "we've been here long enough. It's time to move again."

She wanted to ask why she and Dembe weren't going to move too, but she knew she was not going to get answers. She would have to press Dembe later and see if she could wheedle anything else out of him. After breakfast, Red cleared the dishes and Cassie sat on the floor with Liz while Agnes played on her jungle gym mat, shaking a chubby fist at the hoops and squeaky toys that dangled over her.

"So, do you know where you guys are going?" Cassie queried. "Or is he snatching you off to parts unknown?"

"He's keeping pretty mum. He says there's someone Agnes and I should meet, but he won't say who or where."

"He is maddeningly taciturn, isn't he?"

"He won't change his stripes, that's for sure. Frustrating as he is, there's always a reason for everything he does."

"That's what makes it tolerable," Cassie smirked.

* * *

Liz looked out the window while the Mercedes glided through the tree lined highway, still marveling at the idea of Reddington himself driving. They had left the DC outskirts and headed west into what Liz felt was practically Appalachian wilderness. Buildings grew fewer and further between, the roads snaked, curving so sharply at times that she felt they could nearly pass themselves. Higher into the hills they moved, turning off onto a lane that was barely a road, weaving ever higher. They came at last to a house with a smoking chimney and an old Ford truck in an attached carport.

When they pulled up and Liz climbed out, the door to the home opened and a familiar face stood framed in the entrance.

"Mr Kaplan!"

"Hello dearie," the older woman said, shaking hands with Elizabeth. The younger girl was having none of it, and embraced her in a quick and feeling hug. Kaplan smiled ruefully and straightened her tweed jacket.

"What are you doing here?" asked Liz.

Kate spared a sparse raised eyebrow at Reddington, who seemed to be inspecting the trees and ignoring the conversation. "Not sure whether it's exile or retirement, but it's growing on me."

"More like redemption," piped up a grim-faced Reddington, who nodded at Kate and continued on in the house. Kaplan grabbed Agnes's diaper bag from the back seat while Liz unhooked her car seat and followed the group indoors.

She stepped in to find a grizzled gentleman seated in a recliner. He rose slowly when he saw her, his brow furrowed. Reddington and Kate both stepped aside as he moved to Liz and the baby. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place him.

"Masha?" the Russian name rolled off in a thick burr and when he got close enough his smell reached her—cherry pipe tobacco and wood smoke. Emotions roiled inside her and everything seemed to slow to a creep; it was like standing on a carousel and watching the world go by.

"дедушка!" she whispered, then grabbed onto him and held tight. She remembered. _Grandpa_ , she had said in Russian. She remembered.

Over the next few days Liz tried to catch up on a lifetime of missed opportunities. He regaled her with tales of her own exploits of her mother. He showed her the trunk in the garage and slowly but surely some memories unfurled themselves before her like the pictures and drawings she uncovered. Liz spent her nights curled into Reddington's warmth and soothed by her grandfather's cantankerous humor during the days. He and Kate seemed to have settled into a comfortable life of gruff conversation and the sort of foxhole bonding of soldiers.

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Maryland, Cassie followed Dembe over to a nondescript apartment complex in Bethesda, wondering what she was in for this time. Dembe had described it as another safehouse, but this one was special he said. Immediately upon entering, Cassie realized why. The place was her father's personal space; it exuded his presence in every corner. She saw pictures of herself, younger, books that were her father's favorite, his cigars, his favorite Scotch, a pair of slippers next to the armchair in the corner, and… "Chester?!"

A large tabby stretched and yawned before presenting himself in front of her and weaving around her legs, tail twitching with interest.

"Raymond calls him Chester 2.0," Dembe supplied. "He said your cat followed him from your home when your mother was attacked and he refused to go back. This one though is a new one. The old one passed about ten years back. Then this one showed up a few months later like the reincarnation of that crusty cat himself, it was uncanny and I think it helped him grieve. That cat was one of the last vestiges of his old life with you."

Dembe's lilting accent and the tabby's rusty buzz saw purr made her smile at them both. "I think you make my dad happy, too. You filled the void of a child in his life. He probably would have lost his humanity if he didn't have you."

Dembe nodded solemnly. "He missed you so much. The memories were painful, but somehow comforting I think."

"I don't suppose he blew up our house…?" she cast an arch look at him, and he could not cover the flash of remorse fast enough. Cassie gave him a sardonic smile. "I figured. He has a tendency for theatrics. And yes, that right there is a hard example of how painful it must have been. Family life was tenuous at best, but that night destroyed it completely. That house was a symbol of a lot of negativity. I'm kind of glad he did it in a way. It must have been cathartic."

"It was not effective as he would have liked, I think."

Cassie shook her head. "He can't undo it, or get rid of the memories."

"He needs to make new ones to replace the old," Dembe said solemnly.

* * *

When Liz and Reddington finally showed up, Dembe and Cassie were both hunched over a chess table, engrossed enough to barely give the two a cursory grunt. Cassie finally called time for a break and went to check on her father and Liz and to stir the soup she had started on the stove. Finally, she noticed something amiss.

"Where's the baby?"

"Safe," Lizzie supplied feelingly. "She's safe."

"We've put Agnes in a secure location, but Lizzie will still be able to check in and Facebook—"

"—FaceTime—" Liz put in.

"Yes. And visit whenever she can get away," Raymond finished.

"Sooo…sort of an open adoption type thing?" Cassie questioned, not quite understanding.

"After a fashion," Liz said quietly.

"Can I ask why?" Cassie said, still struggling. "After all that work to get her—"

"It was," Liz clipped, "but it was worth it and we…" she looked at Raymond as he covered her hand with his. "…we still have work to do. This arrangement is not permanent, but it is necessary."

"Okay," she said, the light slowly dawning, "so what do we have to do to give you a life _with_ Agnes?"

"We finish what we started," Liz stated, firmly resolved.

"Taking down the Cabal and all its subsidiaries," Cassie said, cottoning on.

"Yes," Reddington nodded with a determined smile, "we finish the blacklist."


End file.
